Salim Gold
Enclosure
Again I arrive in your city, veer
Into your arms, to verify you’re mine,
And clatter to your board and bed, to clutch
And suture, with élan—to the éclat.
Mannerheim vodka is as clear as wind
And the razor-edge of the sea, and cuts
Quick to the heart and to the quick. Each kiss
Tastes of it, blithe as fire, lithe as tango.
My hostess, so usually a ghost
To me, who I conjure by endless post,
Are we close enough being now so close?
Disclose to me all your feelings. I’m close
To you who is normally so distant.
Cleaving, we veer closely to openness.
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